Tico wasn’t the most companionable of people, not by far, and still for a reason mostly unknown to even himself the other’s ramblings didn't even make him frown. Maybe it was the rational side telling him that he should at least try to get along with this man who, if deciding so, could make his existence aboard Huria rather impossible. Or then, maybe, it was the other side telling him that he actually did.
“Depends on what you mean by inclined,” he answered. There was the slightest of pauses before the inevitable concession. “No, not really.”
After another moment of silence, filled with the soft pinging of forks, a memory of uncanny acuitu suddenly claimed his thoughts. St. Albans’ starry sky above them and breathing visible in the air. Without even realizing he was saying it out loud, Tico recited softly: “As coisas vulgares que há na vida não deixam saudades.”